


Six Letters, Day Of Rest

by telperion_15



Series: Nick/Connor [7]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon, Crossword, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mornings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:18:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lazy Sunday morning in bed isn't quite lazy enough for Connor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Letters, Day Of Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a birthday fic for deinonychus_1 for the prompts 'Nick/Connor, snuggly hurt/comfort when Connor's latest encounter with a creature puts him in hospital' and 'a lazy Sunday morning in'.

  
Nick huffed in irritation, and flipped his pencil round so he could rub out the incorrect letters filling the small squares. Rather embarrassingly, he wasn’t having much luck with ‘A famous Scottish crime novelist’ (in his defence, he didn’t read many crime novels), so he decided to move on to the next clue.  
  
Six across: ‘Prehistoric era preceding the Cretaceous’.  
  
Now that one he _did_ know. Grinning to himself, Nick carefully wrote the letters into the crossword puzzle. J-U-R-A-S-S-I-C. Of course, now he’d have problems with six down when he got around to it – another term for an ‘Old, decrepit car (American slang)’ beginning with J didn’t spring immediately to mind.  
  
Still, he had the rest of the acrosses to deal with first, and by the time he got to the downs, inspiration might have struck.  
  
Glancing sideways, Nick eyed the mess of dark hair that was all that could be seen of the person next to him in the bed. Since it was Sunday morning, Connor was still asleep. Apparently the only aspect of religion that he subscribed to was that Sunday was the ‘day of rest’, and nothing short of a sauropod stampede right outside the window would rouse him before what he considered to be an ‘appropriate’ hour. Appropriate being eleven o’clock at the earliest. Nick getting up, making tea, coming back to bed, and doing the crossword didn’t even register.  
  
Nick didn’t mind. He was pretty fond of lazy Sundays himself – the more so since there was now the chance of an anomaly dragging them off somewhere new at any given moment. Days off were to be treasured, particularly if they stopped Connor grumbling about being woken up at the ‘crack of dawn’.  
  
But at the moment Nick was even more disposed to allow Connor his sleep. The young man was still recovering from his close encounters of the triceratops and raptor variety. The bruises had almost faded now, and his aches and pains were all but gone, but Nick was still inclined to coddle him a little, and Connor didn’t seem to be protesting too much.  
  
And Nick himself was still cursed with the remnant of a bad cold that he’d come down with a week or so earlier. He was no longer coughing and sneezing fit to burst, and he could even breathe through his nose again. But he was still feeling a little fuzzy around the edges, and therefore the excuse of a morning in bed was further to be welcomed.  
  
And what was more, he could pretend that that fuzziness was he reason for only tackling the ‘easy’ clues on the crossword. The puzzle also had a set of cryptic teasers, but Nick was under no illusions about his ability to solve those. Clues about books, television, and the odd palaeontology-related fact were more than challenging enough for today.  
  
Still smiling slightly, Nick read the next clue. Eight across: ‘Star Wars ice planet.’  
  
Drat. He hadn’t got a bloody clue. This one was definitely Connor’s department.  
  
But Connor was asleep.  
  
His smile turning slightly evil, Nick surreptitiously slid his foot across the mattress and poked Connor’s leg with his toe. There was a slight stirring from under the duvet, but nothing more. Connor didn’t wake up.  
  
A second, harder, poke resulted in a low mumble to accompany the twitch, but Connor still remained resolutely in the land of nod.  
  
There was no help for it. Drastic measures were needed.  
  
Nick slid his hand underneath the duvet, found the hem of Connor’s t-shirt by touch, and pushed under it to tickle gently at Connor’s skin.  
  
The reaction was instantaneous. Connor wriggled away from his touch, and a curse that would have made a soldier blush dropped from his lips.  
  
“What did you do that for?” the young man complained. His voice was muffled, but his eyes were now visible above the duvet as well as his hair, although his baleful stare was doing nothing to dampen Nick’s amusement.  
  
“I needed your help with the crossword.”  
  
“The crossword? You woke me up for the crossword? Do you know what time it is?”  
  
“It’s 9:45,” Nick supplied helpfully.  
  
“See? It’s still practically night! I could have got at least another hour’s sleep in!”  
  
“Well, help me with this, and then you can go _back_ to sleep,” Nick suggested.  
  
“That’s no good – I’m properly awake now.” Connor’s grumbling was showing all the signs of turning into a proper sulk, so Nick decided it was time to distract him.  
  
“It’s a Star Wars clue,” he said. “And you know how useless I am at that stuff.”  
  
Connor’s eyebrows quirked suddenly, and it was obvious he was trying not to look interested. He shuffled upwards into a sitting position and peered over at the newspaper. “Oh, go on, then – what is it?”  
  
Nick read out the clue. “‘Star Wars ice planet.’ Four letters.”  
  
“Is that it? That’s too easy. You should know that.”  
  
Nick rolled his eyes. “Humour me.”  
  
“It’s Hoth. You know, in _The Empire Strikes Back_? Come on, that’s entry level stuff.”  
  
Nick shrugged. “Sorry. But thanks for the help, though.” He filled in the answer, and then moved on to the next clue.  
  
It was only after writing in a few more letters that he became aware that Connor was watching him. He looked up and raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”  
  
“Are you going to do that whole crossword?”  
  
“As much as I can of it, yes.”  
  
“And I get to watch you, do I?”  
  
“You could help me some more.”  
  
“I sincerely doubt there are any more Star Wars clues…”  
  
Nick scanned the list quickly. “No, afraid not.”  
  
“Then I’m not going to be much help, am I? I could be asleep, you know. Can I at least have some of your tea?”  
  
“Be my guest.”  
  
Nick reached out and snagged the half-full mug from the bedside cabinet. But when he tried to pass it to Connor, the young man, instead of taking it, grasped Nick’s wrist and pulled him in for a kiss.  
  
“Somehow I sense you’re trying to distract me,” Nick said, when he broke away long seconds later.  
  
Connor grinned, his sulky expression vanishing rapidly. “Well, isn’t this more exciting than the crossword?”  
  
“You forget, I _like_ the crossword.”  
  
“Oh, okay, then.” Connor immediately sat back, and then nodded encouragingly at Nick’s surprised look. “Go on. Get on with it. What’s the next clue?”  
  
Nick didn’t trust Connor’s sudden capitulation for a moment, but he nonetheless read out the next clue.  
  
“Fifteen across. Also twelve down. ‘Composer of _The Lark Ascending_ ’. Oh, bloody hell, I hate classical music.” He looked at Connor. “I don’t suppose you know this one?” he asked hopefully.  
  
“Nope. Sorry.” Connor looked completely unapologetic.  
  
Making a valiant effort, Nick screwed up his face in thought. But when his mind remained completely and utterly blank he came to a sudden decision.  
  
“Oh, to hell with it.” Tossing the newspaper and pencil aside, he reached over and grabbed Connor, trying to ignore the triumphant look on the young man’s face as he dragged him in for another kiss.


End file.
